


Blueprint

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, References to Canon, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: As it turned out, there was more than stolen blueprints on the line. Written for JWP #22.





	Blueprint

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Heavily dependent on knowing [The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2346/2346-h/2346-h.htm), so if you haven't read that before, you might want to go do so before reading this. And wow, I had forgotten just how slashy BRUC was. Slash-goggles definitely present on this one, although you can read it as just friendship if you choose. Also references another of my own fanfictions, [Transposition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/330996), but you don't have to read that to understand this And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP #22: I Came Here to Talk About the Red-Headed League and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now. Examine Holmes and/or Watson from the POV of one of their clients. As you might have guessed, I chose a rather unusual client for this.

I listened to the report. It was clear, concise, and thoroughly put together insomuch as anything could be, given the recent and mysterious nature of the events.  Inspector Lestrade had clearly spared no effort, which was entirely characteristic of the man. I had first encountered him [in extraordinary circumstances](http://archiveofourown.org/works/330996), and two things had impressed me then: his loyalty, and his energetic perseverance. Not long after, I first engaged his services in the service of the Government – well, in my service, which was really the same thing. He had proven his worth a hundred times since, particularly in the business with Moriarty, and in the long three years before my brother could return. He was, as ever, determined, deliberate, and discreet.  
  
Now, however, I was faced with a crisis that was beyond the usual help the Inspector could provide. It required expertise in getting the details essential for deduction – and the knowledge of how to put them together.   
  
“You have done extremely well, Inspector…”  
  
“Excuse me, Mr Holmes, but both you and I know this is not enough. There are too many questions, and not enough answers.” The Inspector’s interruption was both polite and determined. He gave me a keen look. “I know that if this were my case, I would consult with Mr Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
I gave him a brief smile. “You anticipate me. I will send a telegram at once. In these interminable fogs, it will arrive sooner than we can.”  
  
For the first time in this interview, Inspector Lestrade looked surprised. “We?”  
  
I had never told Sherlock the specifics of my association with the Inspector, but he was not unaware of it.  “Of course, unless you have other pressing duties.”  
  
“More pressing than a potential international crisis?” The Inspector’s tone was very dry. “I rather doubt it.”  
  
Between the growing crisis in Siam and other pressing governmental matters, I had not seen Sherlock in some months. As we travelled to Baker Street, the foul London fog shrouding everything in near-impenetrable gloom, I wondered in what state I might find him. My brother’s return had not been entirely easy. The ordeal had changed him, and London was not as he had left it. My brother is nearly as much a creature of habit as I am, although less willing to admit it. He had yet to completely settle into his new life, and while Doctor Watson was a welcome influence, I still worried what ultimate shape it might take.  
  
His appearance, when we arrived, at first served to underlie all my fears. He was in his dressing-gown, restless, with lines of strain around his eyes and nails bitten and ragged. However, I saw no obvious signs that he was under the influence of cocaine, and he had too much energy to be under morphine’s sway. Moreover, his Doctor did not appear alarmed, but rather relieved. I quickly concluded from the evidence that boredom, and nothing more sinister, was at the root of my brother’s troubles, and I had brought a solution to that.  
  
I noted as well how routinely Doctor Watson watched my brother, and more, how my brother remained at all times aware of his friend, even while delving into the details of the case. This was an interesting development. The Doctor was stirred by my calls to patriotism and service to country, as any former soldier and true Englishman should be. My brother was less obviously moved, and not at all motivated by my offer of honours, but he was willing enough – and he clearly expected Watson to accompany him.  
  
Again, interesting.  
  
When next I saw them, at breakfast the next day, there was yet another change. Another man would never have seen it, but I see things that no one else does, and I know my brother. There was a lingering glow of emotion every time he looked at his friend, and he looked very often. From the tale that Sherlock told us, it was clear that Doctor Watson set his country’s good above the letter of the law. From his behaviour towards my brother, and from my brother’s behaviour towards him, it was equally clear that Watson had broken those laws at my brother’s behest – and that he would do so again, if asked.  
  
For a brief moment this gave me pause, and then I put it aside. If Doctor Watson chose to value my brother above the law, I was hardly one to question his choice.  The subsequent events of the day simply highlighted his competence, and his willingness to follow where my brother led – within the bounds of reason, and the dictates of his conscience. I already knew that he had the strength to stand fast when his honour and common sense demanded it. He proved it again when resisting my brother’s impish suggestion that I break into Oberstein’s residence the way they had the night before.   
  
But the truly telling detail was Sherlock’s open admittance to Watson that Colonel Valentine Walter was not the man he had expected to catch. That, more than anything, told me the depths of my brother’s trust and reliance on his friend, and the true nature of his feelings. Here was the cornerstone of my brother’s new life, along with his cases and his violin.   
  
It would not always be smooth, and it could never be simple, but I foresaw the brightest chance of a long and successful partnership, and the promise of happiness. No brother could hope for more for his younger sibling.  
  
The fact that my Queen chose to secretly honour the pair of them for their part in resolving the crisis, detective and doctor both, no matter how they chose to portray it otherwise in the Doctor’s little fictions?  
  
Most satisfying indeed, to see my brother and his partner so appreciated.


End file.
